


Marks

by Drfanfare



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, I promise, Language Confusion, M/M, Soulmates, Writing on Skin, eventually things will pick up, this is turning out to be a slow build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-09-27 17:40:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10036586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drfanfare/pseuds/Drfanfare
Summary: Soulmate AU Where whatever is written on you appears on your soulmates skin. This is based on the fic "Unwritten" by Kaizuka.Viktor spent much of his early years waiting for ink to appear on his skin, signaling the existence of his soulmate. When it didn't come, he threw himself into his skating. But with the pressure to succeed, it becomes harder to do it alone.





	1. Ink stains and Anxieties

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Unwritten](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8293714) by [kaizuka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaizuka/pseuds/kaizuka). 



"I am Viktor."

The sloppy cyrillic stained the arm of the young boy. No response. Not a word, a picture, even another drop of ink. At five, Viktor had already seen the phantom marks of ink that appeared on the hands and skin of his peers. Marks made on the skin of their soulmate. But nothing. Not one drop of foreign ink altered the canvass of his skin. He could tell he was different. And so could the other kids. Viktor couldn't stand the questions.

His parents worried. So they did what any good parent does. They took his mind off of it. When he wasn't at school, he was on the rink. Skating. It was the one place he didn't have to think about the future and the lack of other halves.

And so he did. And he became good. Really good. So good his parents pulled him from school and began to home school him, just so he would have more time on the ice. Turns, jumps and spins became all that Viktor cared about.

By ten, Viktor had barely time to think about soulmates and his apparent lack of one. He was starting to do competitions. He was starting to win. And the pressure was becoming intense.

But everything changed one competition day at the age of 14.

He was going to lose. His form was off. He was in third after the short program. He only landed two of the four jumps in his free program during warm ups. He couldn't keep beat. He was going to lose. His vision blurred as he sat in the locker room waiting for his slot to take the ice. Thank fully he was alone, so no one saw him burry his face in his hands. He was going to lose. Skating was all that he had. All he ever had to look forward to in his life. He was going to lose.

A warm familiar hand came to rest on Viktor's thin shoulders. It was his coach Yakovf. "Viktor its about time."

Viktor snuffled "Okay. I'll be out in a second." He wiped away his tears and attempted to wave off his coach. But the older man caught Viktor's wrist.

"Viktor, what the hell is all over your hands?"

Viktor, nonplussed, looked at his hands. The white skin was covered in large splotches of inky blotches. What? He looked up at his coach.

"Vi, its all over your face too." Viktor rummaged in his bag and pulled out the small mirror he kept to make sure his outfit and hair was in order before taking the ice. Sure enough, when he looked in the mirror, his face was speckled with ink. And as he looked, they began to smear and fade.

He could hear his heart in his own throat. He had one. He wasn't alone. He had a soulmate. He couldn't speak.

An event attendant came into the room. "You have 1 minute to report to the ice." Viktor barely heard the words. His head was spinning as his coach pulled him up and led him out to the rink.'

His heart was hammering as his blade touched the ice. It felt foreign and unreal. He glided to his starting position. The music started playing. He felt the down beat and his skate moved on his own. He spun, slowly.

He wasn't alone. His arms reached up in a long graceful arc, sweeping high above his head. The fromata lingered in the air. His eyes marveled at the tip of his finger where the smallest dot of ink lingered. His heart slowed with a moment. This was real. He wasn't alone.

The music dropped and he launched into a faced an light step sequence, his heart mimicking the movements of his feet. He felt a smile break across his face. Someone was out there for him. He launched into a triple axel and felt his emotions soar. He followed it up with an unplanned double toe loop. His heart couldn't handle the happiness he was feeling. He had to vent it.

His skates took that burden. He went flawlessly from one element to the next. Spins turned into steps, turned into a beautiful free spread eagle. The build up to his final jump came and he realized he was coming into it with too much power. He had gotten distracted and was too excited. He would get hurt if he didn't pull back.

His mind suddenly went serenely blank. He knew what he had to do. Instead of pulling back he pushed a little harder. He jumped. One, two, three... Four rotations. He had just turned his triple toe loop into a quad. His skate hit the ice and he almost lost his balance, touching the ice with one hand. But the rotations were there.

He went into his final spin and felt his emotions welling up. He hit his pose. The applause was drown out by the pounding in his ears and his panting breath. Everything around him was blurry. He realized with a start that his eyes were filled with unshed tears. He bowed to the audience and judges. 

The rest of the night went by in a blur. Not only had he shattered his personal best, he had been the first 14 year old to land a quad toe loop, albeit, fumbled. He had taken gold.

But the thing that was most important to him was that small speck of ink on his right index finger. The proof he had a soulmate.


	2. Ink Stains and Greater things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy moly, ya'll really know how to show the love. I love hearing from your guys! feel free to comment! I'll usually reply!
> 
> Unfortunately I am a college student, so updates might be sporadic. Spring break is coming up however and I will try to do some writing then so I can front load some updates.
> 
> I am writing this update a little early, but I was inspired. I know I said this would be mainly from Viktor's POV, but I couldn't help myself. Toddler and Young Yuuri keep popping into my head saying "WRITE ME". And who can resist a little katsudon? Certainly not me! 
> 
> Sorry if there are any errors, It is late and I am sleepy. A terrible combination when you have to edit.

Yuuri Katsuki was an unusually clean child. Perhaps it had something to do with the endless lines of ink that would dance their way up his arms. They appeared from infancy. The childish sloppy lettering growing slowly more clear as the years progressed. His mother would often spend the early years of his life watching the ink blossom on to her lovely baby boy's skin. They weren't Kanji, nor the roman lettering of the western countries. If she had to guess it would be Russian. She couldn't help but feel a little sad. His journey to his sould mate would be a little harder than his peers.

As Yuuri grew and became more self aware, so did his dislike for having the foreign lettering appearing on his skin. He was young and didn't understand what it meant. His peers had the occasional writing or marking on their arms, but never the quantity nor the strange foreign script that Yuuri had. Some of the earliest childhood school memories was being pushed down on the playground for the strangeness of his markings. He was almost afraid of them.

So he liked to keep clean. He made sure he never held the markers too close to the ends, washed those stupid hand stamps off immediately and was extremely careful when he was learning calligraphy in class. You would have been met with a mild tantrum had you suggested a four year old Yuuri finger paint.

Yuuri was relieved as the markings became more and more infrequent over the years. He could enjoy his ballet classes with less awkward stares from his fellow dancers. The only one who didn't tease him about his marks was Yuuko. Their parents had grown up together and they had basically been raised as family. They had done everything together, play, sleep, dance, adventure and most of all learned to skate together.

Yuuri loved skating. It was so freeing. Not only did he have the complete excuse to wear long sleeves to hide his markings, he was often allowed to skate with minimal supervision. It was a place where he could be alone with his thoughts.

He relished the way that his blades would cut the glass surface beneath him, carving out his mark on the world. It was his and his alone in those brief moments.

As much as he loved being alone on ice, he also relished in learning the more technical aspects of ice skating. He spent hours with Yuuko and her mother learning steps, and spins, and the odd jump. Yuuko made the rink cheerful and lively. Especially after she met her soulmate.

It was the first time that Yuuri had met someone his age who had found their match. Yuuko had thrust her hand in Yuuri's face one afternoon when they were about seven. In messy hand writing the address for the rink was written down. She had said that the marks had appeared on their own. Sure enough a boy had walked in later that day, looking at their hand. When he went to the counter he thrust his hand up to the person working the desk and asked if this was the right address. Yuuko had spotted him and rushed over to grab his hand. Sure enough the hand writing was a match. The pair looked at each other for a few moments and had burst out into fits of laughter.

From that point on they were inseparable. Yuuri liked Takashi a lot. He was a good friend to Yuuko and was kind to Yuuri... most of the time. They had a friendly rivalry on the ice, but most of it was just Takashi trying to show off. It all ended in good fun.

The more time they spent on the ice, the more time they would spend watching skating competitions when they were off it. They enthralled Yuuri. He was so enchanted that there was a whole career where you could just skate all day. They quickly all chose favorites. Yuuko's was a skater from Ukraine, much to Takashi's chagrin. Yuuri however, developed a rather strong admiration for a skater in the Junior division. His name was Viktor Nikiforov.

He was a natural on the ice. His young slender body could own the ice better than most of the skaters in the senior division. Yuuri never failed to miss a skate of his. 

When Yuuri was ten, Yuuko, Takashi and he were having a sleepover to watch the ISU Grand Prix Junior Final. It was being held in Halsinki, so the time difference was terrible. However, since it was a Saturday, their parents had agreed to let them have a sleep over and stay up late to watch the live broadcast. The catch was they had to work on their homework while they were waiting for the program to commence. This time it was calligraphy work sheets. They all sat around the table slowly working on the characters they had to get the strokes right for. Their ink wells lay open. Yuuko's and Takashi's were messy and dotted with little stray droplets of ink. Their fingers too became twins of stray ink stains. Yuuri's as per usual was as neat as could be. No stray drops and certainly none on his hands. 

Yuuko squealed at about midnight when the broad cast music turned on. They watched the warm ups and listened to the commentary. Yuuri noted with some concern that Viktor seemed completely off his game. 

"I wonder what has gotten into Viktor today" Yuuko voiced the worry that Yuuri had been feeling since the first fall during the warm ups. 

"Maybe he's finally cracked under the pressure." Takashi was fighting tiredness and was yawning horribly.

"Taki! That's a horrible thing to say!" She playfully shoved him, jostling the ink wells on the table.

"G-Guys." Yuuri eyed the ink wells cautiously. "I think he'll be fine. I mean its Viktor after all. His skating is so beautiful whenever he performs. He'll pull it together. Let's just watch, okay?"

Yuuko sighed and rolled her eyes. "Okay, sure."

They all sit in silence and watch as the free programs begin. Takashi, not quite as able to stay awake as late as Yuuko and Yuri started nodding off around the second skate. It wasn't until the second to last skater before Viktor that Takashi really falls asleep. His head drooped forward slowly heading to the table. The other two were too intent on the screen. When Yuuri smiles over at Yuuko he notices half her face is covered in ink. She sees his weird expression and looks instinctively at her soulmate. There he was asleep on the table in a pool of calligraphy ink. She all but screams as she launches her self on him in frustration. Takashi wakes up startled, arms flailing.

"GUYS BE CAREF-" Yuuri's warning comes too late. Takashi's arms sends one of the ink pots flying off the table. Yuuri lunges for it with both hands, trying to prevent it spilling and staining the tatami mats beneath them. Unfortunately it landed upside down in his hands, splattering his face and upper arms and flowing out over his hands.

The next few minutes were frantic apologies and rapid clean ups. Yuuri didn't want to miss Viktors skate. His friends helped his mother clean the now black stained tatami and table while Yuuri rapidly scrubbed off the ink from his hands and face. He didn't want to miss Viktor's program. For once he didn't care if he was perfectly clean of ink. He would not let that make him miss this performance.

He made it back just in time to watch Viktor being pushed out on to the ice. The young skater had a strange look of wild happiness on his face. Almost shock. He took his place in the middle of the rink.

The next minutes were the most spell bound Yuuri had ever felt. The skate was flawless. There was just so much unadulterated joy in his movements. As he went into the final jump the commentator's words switched from awe to rapidly increasing worry. He was going to fast, and everyone in the rink knew it. Yuuri's breath sucked in and he watched as the boy on screen kicked off for his jump, effortlessly transferring the extra speed into extra height and power. It felt like the world stopped as they whole room watched one, two, three... FOUR rotations. The commentators lost it. And Yuuri's heart soared. His heart fluttered through the skaters final spin and even cheered loudly, despite the hour, at his final pose.

There was no denying it. Yuuri Katsuki was totally and utterly spell bound by Viktor Nikiforov.


	3. Ink stains and Growing pains

"Vitya!" Yakov shouted from the side of the rink. "I want to see that step sequence lighter! And I swear to god, you will be doing 300 extra squats, if I see another pen in your hand today." 

Viktor skated lazily over to his coach, stretching his arms high over his head. "You know how I forget things. It helps me to write them down!" The long haired teen waved the felt tip pen he had clipped to a loop on his glove. It had been several years since he had discovered that he actually had a soul mate. 

"Then write them on a note pad, not your skin you idiot. Paper lasts beyond the damn shower." He thrust a small note pad at the 17 year old. Viktor frowned at the pad as he took it. Such regimented lines. He hated it. He idly looked on the other side of the paper to fine the lines continued on the back.

"Eh." He tossed the pad of paper nonchalantly over the barrier and skated off to the center of the rink. 

"VITYA!" Viktor ignore his coach and skated off to do a spin. It didn't have the usual lightness to it.

He always kept a pen on him, to the utter annoyance of his coach. It irked him that Yakov used it against him. How could you turn true love into an incentive. It there was a whole year where he spent half his time split between the ice and the training room, doing the "punishment" exercises that Yakov imposed when he played with his pen to much. He supposed it wasn't all that bad since his quads started becoming more steady and powerful as his leg strength improved.

Since the incident at the Junior Grand Prix, he would scribble more notes, lists, hellos, thoughts and even occasionally whole letters on to his skin. Hoping against hope that his soul mate would reply. But they didn't. The ink would fade or Viktor would get shy and wash away the love sick words of longing on his skin. Yet it wasn't like he had never had a direct interaction with his soulmate before. In fact, he had them fairly regularly.

The first time it happened was when he was 15. He was idling late one night in his bed. He was frustrated and exhausted from a long day on the rink, but had been lying awake for hours, not able to get his mind to rest. He eventually reached over to his bed side table and grabbed the pen lying there. In the dim light coming from the street lamp outside, he traced elegant sweeping lines on his forearm. With no real purpose, Viktor just drew in the lines. It was the first real time he had actually drawn on himself. It was almost like looking like cuts on a freshly resurfaced rink. He paused for a moment, thinking of that. Then he watched as a swirl branched off of one of his lines.

He had sat bolt upright in the bed. He hesitates, pen over his skin. Wondering if he had imagined the addition. Maybe he had added it in his tired state. His eyes widened when the next swirl was added, a couple quick loops quickly following. His heart soared and his tiredness vanished.

They spent the next two hours, slowly adding to the design. Not a word was written between the two, but he could almost hear how shy they were through the strokes of their pen. It was so sweet and innocent that he didn't want to ruin the moment. The next morning he got yelled at for the bags under his eyes and his sluggish actions. It was worth it. It was the only thing that his soulmate would draw on his skin.

Viktor ran through his program once again. His steps were still heavy and his legs ached more than usual. It had been rough the last two weeks. He was more tired than usual. It seemed as if he was losing stamina instead of gaining it. He sighed and glided back to the double doors to the rink.

"Yakov, I can't do this to day. I am just aching too much." Yakov eyed his pupil suspiciously as he came off the rink.

"Come here, I'll help you stretch."

Grudgingly Viktor pulled his skates off and followed Yakov into the training room for his cool down stretches. He sat down and began stretching slowly an methodically. He was stiffer than usual and his hips ached. He let his eyes close as he went slowly through the familiar motions. He was so tired, he could almost fall asleep doing these stretches...

"Vitya, when was the last time you measured your height?" His coaches words cut through a peaceful haze that had finally settled over him. He paused mid toe reach. How long had it been. He hadn't had a growth spurt in two years, so he figured he was finished growing.

"Uh, I suppose at the spring physical about two months ago. It was the same as always. Why?" He said as he continued his stretch.

"Because your pants look too short and you've never had your feet hang off the mat while you stretched." The older Russian had a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Huh, weird." It was true. Maybe he was getting taller. It would explain his sloppiness and why everything felt heavy. Thank god it was still the off season. Sure, enough when they finished stretching him, they measured him. He had grown two whole inches in the last few weeks. Yakov decided to send him home with a laundry list of ballet exercises to practice to get him used to the length, balance, and awkwardness of his new limbs.

He sighed on the way home. He would have to be remeasured for his costume. One of his least favorite activities. Despite his pickiness when it came to fashion and what he wore on the ice, he never had the patience to sit through a fitting without squirming. 

He stretched his hand out in front of him. He supposed that his reach did seem a little longer...

His footsteps stopped at as he looked at his hand. Little lines flitted into existence on the back of his hand. The formed what looked like characters.

Was... Was that Japanese?

Viktor hadn't the slightest clue what it read. It was the first time that he had seen his soulmate ever write anything on his skin. And it was in an entirely foreign language. He stared at it for what felt like hours. Was this why they never responded? Did they simply not understand him? Maybe...

He went straight to the local book store to browse for a Japanese-Russian dictionary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge time jump for these couple chapters. Sorry there is so little interaction between them in this chapter. Sometimes characters just gotta live their life yo. As for the absence of their rink mates, I imagine that during the off season, each skater Yakov coaches gets a half a day alone with Yakov and then they skate together all day the rest of the days.


	4. Ink Stains and Concealing Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Growing Up is hard and awkward and I don't think anyone gets off super easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone seems to forget that Yuuri was Japans rep in the Grand Prix... That means he was one of the top Japanese figure skaters before the Socchi Grand Prix. This little Katsudon is going to be beloved by his home country from a young age.

It wasn't that Yuuri still hated the writing that frequented his arms. In fact, as the years passed, he started finding it rather sweet. He spent hours watching the lettering dance into being across his skin. He also understood better what the person on the other side of his exchange was supposed to be. It was his other half, his matched pair, the one who would complete him... his soulmate.

His obsession with the skater Viktor Nikiforov had even taught him what the strange lettering was. It was Russian Cyrillic. It wasn't just strange scribbles that stretched across his skin. They were actual words, sentences, and sometimes even paragraphs(though those were often quickly washed off). Perhaps some of them were for him. He often dreamed that it was secretly Viktor, but he recognized how unrealistic that was.

Yuuri, not knowing the language, never knew how to respond. It was pointless writing it his own language since he doubted his soulmate would be able to read it. In fact, the only time Yuuri would ever interact with them was when they would start doodling on their skin. Art and doodling was something you didn't need a dictionary for. His other half's drawings were always so bold and fluid. The strokes reminded him of the long cuts on the ice he would make during his routines. 

Speaking of the ice, Yuuri was becoming increasingly busy. At the age of 13 Yuuri's national skating career was taking off. After a string of successes in local and regional competitions, Yuuri qualified for the Junior Japanese National Championships. He spent every second of the day either on the ice, in the ballet studio, or in school attempting not to fail his classes. And with his success came recognition. He was also getting sponsorship offers and interview requests. 

Now, Yuuri didn't hate his soulmate's words, but there were times when he resented them.

He was scheduled to do a photo shoot for a magazine. He had been chosen as Japan's '07 Junior Figure skater to watch by a prominent Japanese figure skating magazine. The crew had him dressed in a comfortable pair of dark jeans and one of Hatsetu Ice Castle's more fashionable tees. His hair they slicked back to resemble how he wore it on the ice and had asked him to wear his contacts. After a light job by the make up crew, he was deemed presentable and ushered on set.

He looked pretty good. He was certainly a far cry more attractive that the slightly awkward preteen that greeted him most mornings in the mirror.

The shoot started without issue. The photographer was quite kind and patient with Yuuri, teaching him how to pose, making jokes, and generally trying to make the nervous teen more relaxed. It worked, until Yuuri saw the man's eyes narrow and a quiet swear under his breath. He stopped taking photos and flipped through the images on the digital screen. His frown was getting deeper. Yuuri looked at the man, worry creasing his brow. Had he done something wrong? He looked down at his close to see if he was wearing something weirdly. His heart sank.

The familiar hand writing was crawling across his skin again. He felt a blush rising in his cheeks. For the briefest moment, he was angry at his soulmate. Why did they have to embarrass him like this all the time? Especially right now since he was in the middle of a photo shoot. He could feel his ears turning a deeper shade of pink as the writing continued up past his elbow.

"I am so sorry, Sir." He quickly bowed to the photographer, his pink color spreading to the back of his neck. He hated that he had no way of stopping them from writing at times like this. It felt like he didn't have control of what happened to him. 

The photographer sighed and waved away his apology. "Its no problem Katsuki-san. Just head back to make up and have Sawamura-san fix you up." Puzzled, he walked back to the make up room while the photographer gave everyone else a ten.

Sawamura was a twenty something young lady in charge of the make up and hair division of the studio. She was sweet and funny when she had originally done Yuuri's make up. She looked up from her phone when Yuuri re-entered the room. "What's wron-" She stopped herself when she spotted Yuuri's arms. "Ah," she said and gestured to make up chair. "Take a seat."

He obeyed as the make up artist reached for the bottom drawer of the make up station. "Over active soulmate?"

"Yeah, they write so much and I can never tell him to stop. I don't know Russian." His stomach burned with embarrassment. He didn't enjoy having to explain himself. He watched as she pulled several containers of what looked like foundation from the drawer.

"Yeah, I understand that. My own soulmate was from Belgium." Yuuri perked up at that. Sawamura began holding the jars up to Yuuri's face one by one as she talked. "It was infuriating not knowing what was being said for the first decade and a half of my life. It took a long time for me to learn enough French to communicate with her." 

She seemed satisfied with one and began dabbing it on his forearm with an applicator. "Once we started understanding each other, we wanted to end up in a position where we could meet. She was model, which is the main reason why I went into the beautician industry. It wanted to have the chance to meet her someday. By my own power." Yuuri was entranced by the make up artist's story. He had never been around someone who's soulmate wasn't from the same country. None of his peers or mentors had the issues of language barriers that he dealt with on a day to day basis. It was... encouraging. "I bet you got teased when you were younger about your soulmate's writing, yes?" She looked up at him with kindness and sympathy in her brown eyes. He gave a shy nod. "The same was for me. I get it. In fact, I already had a knack for make up when I decided to become a beautician. Mainly," She smiled as she reached for the sealing powder. "Because I learned really early how to use make up to cover up the writing while still keeping it looking natural." Yuuri glanced down for the first time she had started.

He saw... his arm. Just his arm. No writing. The shade of foundation she had used was the perfect match to his skin and with the light dusting of powder and her excellent blending job, he couldn't differentiate between covered and uncovered skin. He looked up at her, slightly awe struck. She smiled at him. "If you have a few minutes after the shoot I can teach you how to do that if it'll make you feel better."

Yuuri nodded slowly. "Thank you very much."

"No problem! But right now you have a shoot to finish." She ushered him back out to complete the shoot.

When they finished, as she promised, Sawamura spent an extra half an hour showing the teen how to cover his arms himself. She even sent him home with the container with his matching foundation. He was quite pleased with himself how quickly he picked it up by the time he was walking out of the studio. 

"Katsuki-san, you forgot your jacket!" Sawamura caught up to him. He accepted the jacket with extra thanks. "Oh and one more thing." She grabbed Yuuri's hand and wrote down the name of a company. "This is the best brand. They have that same color in a long stay sweat proof version. I figured you might wanna know since you're an athlete."

Yuuri smiled broadly at her. "Yes! Thank you so much for everything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay but make up artists can be some of the kindest and most sympathetic people ever. If you're ever in theater, dance, film or modeling, please be kind to your tech team.


	5. Ink Stains and Broken Ties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chris is best friend.

Viktor tugged on his skates. He was fresh off his third grand prix podium finish. It wasn't the gold he had been hoping for, but silver was enough to earn him a two week coaching break from Yakov. Chris had invited him to his place in Switzerland to celebrate his birthday. I mean, who could beat Christmas and a birthday in the Alps? He had agreed on the condition that he would have access to a rink to practice. Chris promised access to the rink where he and his family practiced and they had boarded a flight to Switzerland straight from the GPF host city of Tokyo.

There was no denying it, the landscape was beautiful. And it was nice to be away from the public eye for a change. Maybe he could enjoy himself for once this birthday. But he still was agitated.

He swore as he missed a hook lacing up.

"Something on your mind Viktor?" Chris leaned on the barrier of the rink, skates already on.

Viktor glanced up at the 20 year old and grimaced. "No, just in a bad mood is all."

"Oh?" Chris moved off the barrier and ran his finger's through Viktor's long platinum locks. "A bad mood? Why are you in a bad mood?" The younger man absently started braiding the length as Viktor finished tying his other skate. He closed his eyes, reveling in the feeling of another person's fingers in his hair.

"Mmmmm..." Chris finished the braid and slung it over Viktor's shoulder. The older man stood and stretched his long arms. "Let's just get skating."

Chris eyed him and sighed. He knew getting sober Viktor to talk about something he didn't want to was a lost cause. "Fine, but we're going drinking after practice."

Viktor smiled back at him. He was was glad he had met the Swiss skater. He always knew when Viktor was hiding something.

\-----------------------------------

Chris poured Viktor another shot of vodka. The Russian was giggling madly about something the Swiss had said. His head was spinning and he felt pleasantly warm. He downed the new drink and his giggled switched suddenly to hiccups.

"Well," Chris said, refilling his own glass again. His tone had mellowed. "What's on your mind, Vitya?"

Viktor hiccuped and leaned on his friend. "I am losing my touch. I'm worthless. I'm not capable of surprising the audience any more." Chris's arm wound around his fellow skater and rubbed gentle circles into his back.

"Oh Vitya..." Chris sighed heavily. "These things come with time. You of all people can surprise the audience. You're only 22 for god's sake. Plenty of time to teach yourself new tricks." He winked at Viktor in an attempt to cheer him. Viktor didn't notice. He was staring at the bottle of vodka in front of them, a deep frown etching itself into his face. Abruptly, he grabbed the bottle and gulped down a good inch and half. He broke for air with a gasp. Chris took the bottle from him.

"Okay, that's enough for you." Viktor belched softly. He laid his head on his arms, hiding his face from Chris.

"My soulmate hates me. They wont talk to me. The only interaction that we have is drawing on our skin, and even then, it barely happens anymore." Viktor was babbling. He felt the burn of tears in his eyes. He hated showing this kind of weakness. At least he could trust Chris.

Chris sighed heavily. He rubbed Viktor's back firmly. "Oh come now, they can't hate you. They're probably just some sort of misunderstanding."

"There was only ever one clue I have about them. They're Japanese. They once wrote the name of what I figured out later was a make up company. I looked it up and they specialize in soulmark long lasting makeup." He felt the first tear spill over the rims of his eyes. He looked up at Chris. He felt vulnerable and hurt. "What if they're covering up my messages... Our marks?"

Chris's heart broke for his friend. He pulled Viktor into a tight hug. He couldn't sway his friends worries over the actions of his soulmate, but maybe... Chris pulled back. "Vitya, look at me." The Russian sniffled and looked at his friend. "You don't have to have a soulmate to be happy." Viktor hiccuped, giving the man a look of confusion.

"I don't have a soulmate." The statement hung in the air for a moment. Viktor had never broached the subject of soulmates with his friend. He felt horrible, here he was going on about his love woes and Chris didn't even have anyone. He looked away, ashamed.

"I... I'm sorry I didn't know... I thought... You of all people." That earned Viktor a hearty laugh. He looked back up to see a broad grin across the 20 year old's face.

"Oh please! You think anyone could handle this glorious bod?" He posed dramatically and Viktor tried desperately to muffle his laughter. They both dissolved into laughter.

The laughter died and Chris poured himself one last drink. "It never bothered me that I didn't have a soulmate. I knew they existed and just knew I didn't have one. My parents were amazing. They taught me that you didn't need to be soulmates to find love. Both of their's died young you see, so they just fell in love. So I knew I could find love with or without the help of a soulmate. It's helped that skating has been here for me all my life. I just dedicated myself to connecting with the audience. I trust love will come. And I can be ever so patient." He drained the glass and smiled at Viktor. "I believe you can find happiness with or without your soulmate. You're time will come."

Viktor stared at Chris. He never realized how wise he was.

"Thank you."

The two paid the tab and left the bar singing.

\---------------------------------

Viktor lay in his bed staring up at the ceiling. He was still drunk. The fan above the bed was moving in circles, despite being off.

Chris's words rang in his ears. 'You don't need a soulmate to be happy.' Maybe he was right. Maybe he could live without his soulmate. He would be better off emotionally, not worrying about if he was good enough for them. He would be able to focus on his own skating and career. He could reach thousands more people over trying to meet just this one. They obviously didn't want Viktor in their lives.

He sat up and reached for the pen on his bedside table. He would try one last time. One last time and he was done. If they didn't answer this time, he didn't believe in soulmates. It wasn't meant to be.

He hesitated with the tip over the skin of his forearm. He felt oddly sober. He held his breath, closed his eyes and prayed. 'Please. Whoever you are. I want you. So bad. Just... Answer me.'

"I am Viktor Nikiforov. I am a skater and I want to know you. Please." He stopped and stared at his skin. He methodically repeated the words in English and French. He hoped they knew one of those... or at the vary least could use a translation tool. He gave them his phone number and address.

He waited staring at his forearm. He wanted to see something anything on his for arm. But didn't. He laid down and rested his arm on the pillow so he could watch for any answer.

He waited and waited...

 

Viktor woke as the light of the morning hit his face. It also illuminated his forearm.

He looked at it. And his heart broke. Nothing. Not a speck of new ink.

That was it.

He got up slowly from bed. His head ached and his stomach rolled. Hung over. He sidled into the bathroom.

He looked up at the mirror and the man reflected looked tired and sad. His long hair was still in a messy braid, his eyes were red and puffy from the previous night's crying. But he couldn't cry anymore. He wouldn't.

He washed his face and rinsed the out the film the Vodka had left in his mouth. He looked back at his forearm, half hoping something would change in the mean time. Nothing.

He sighed and scrubbed off the message. He scrubbed hard, suddenly angry. When he finished the only thing left was reddened skin.

He sighed. A glint caught his eye. It was the scissors in the shaving kit he had brought with them. He pulled them out.

This was it. It was time for a new chapter. No more pining over a soulmate that didn't want him. No more tears.

He grabbed his braid. Snip.

As the hair fell away from the nape of his neck, he looked back at the man in the mirror and smiled.

Chris was right. He didn't need fate deciding what would make him happy. He would make his own fate from now on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry it took so long! This chapter was a lot harder to write. It was difficult to get the flow right. I hope you all like it. Feel free to rant at and give me feedback!


	6. Ink Stains and Drive

Yuuri Katsuki's skate sliced across the ice. This ice was so different from the one back home. The size, the lighting, the general atmosphere. It had been a year since he had been invited to train under Celestino in Detroit and only six months since he had started college at the University of Detroit on a scholarship. Since then he had met one of the kindest, out going, talented skaters, Phichit. He also happened to be his roommate.

When Yuuri looked his way, Phichit was at the barrier taking a selfie with one of the younger skaters. He smiled when the Thai skater saw his glance and waved him over. Obliged, gliding over leisurely. 

"Yuuri! Did you hear the skaters are holding a Christmas Party tonight? You'll be coming right?"

"I don't really do parties." Yuuri scratched the back of his head, looking embarrassed.

"Oh come on, Yuuri you'll go if I go, right?" Phichit gave Yuuri the biggest puppy dog eyes he could muster. "Please."

Yuuri laughed nervously. "That's not fair, Phichit!" He knew he wasn't going to win this battle.

"Please?" He folded his hands pleading.

"Oh alright."

"Yes!" The Thai skater did a small hop then skated off and did a double toe loop in celebration.

"Alright everyone!" Celestino had just walked in. "Let's get to formal warm ups! I know its Christmas, but its time to get working!"

 

\------------------------------------------------------

Yuuri sipped from his water bottle. They were on their last 10 minute break and most of the skaters were some variation of laid out and breathing hard off the ice. Yuuri's stamina was enough to keep him from being too winded, but he could tell he certainly would be sore the rest of the night. He was even warm enough that he had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. They had been working extra hard since they were only meeting for an afternoon session. The hope was they would work hard and get to go home soon, so they could spend time with family on the holiday.

"Yuuri!"

"Huh? What?"

He hadn't realized Phichit had been calling his name. 

"Your soulmate is writing to you."

"Huh?" Yuuri glanced down at himself. He caught sight of the Cyrillic curling into existence on his arm. "Oh yeah they some times do that I don't really..."

He trailed off when the handwriting switched to English, and then a moment later in what appeared to be French. 

_I am Viktor Nikiforov. I am a skater and I want to know you. Please._

His whole world seemed to freeze. He couldn't comprehend what he was seeing. 

Viktor. Viktor Nikiforov.

Instinct kicked in. 

"Wait! Yuuri!" He fled as fast as he could to the locker room, Phichit following quickly on his heels.

Viktor. Skater. Oh god it had to be him. The Viktor that inspired him to skate. The Viktor that had pushed him to improve. The Viktor whose face currently adorned most of the walls of his dorm room.

Soulmate. He was Viktor's soulmate. He couldn't hear Phichit asking if he was alright, nor when he quietly told a concerned Celestino that Yuuri wasn't feeling well and he was going to take him home. He barely noticed Phichit helping him take off his skates and slip on his sneakers.

He could not process. He was soulmates with _the_ Viktor Nikiforov. When? Stupid question, since birth. Why? Why, was Yuuri his soulmate. Surely Viktor deserved some one as talented as him. Yuuri hadn't even made past the preliminary rounds of the Grand Prix yet! He squeezed his forearm over the inky letters, hiding them from view.

His mind came back to reality when Yuuri found himself and Phichit opening the door to their dorm. He vaguely remembered the other man hailing a taxi and the drive. He sat at the small kitchen table of their suite as Phichit made them some green tea. 

"Here." Yuuri accepted the tea that was offered to him. He felt weak, his hands shaky and his lips tingly and numb. He sipped the drink cautiously.

"Does your arm say what I think it said?"

Yuuri nodded, slowly.

"Did you know?"

Yuuri shook his head and buried his face in his hand. 

"Oh my god." How was supposed to feel about this?

Happy? The childish part of him that wanted it to be Viktor since he realized Cyrillic was Russian rejoiced. But the stronger more dominant part of him was horrified.

He was not good enough.

"Yuuri, stop it." He looked up at Phichit who was staring at him hard.

"I know what you're thinking. That you don't deserve him. But you do. You are talented, kind, and a passionate person. Don't ever believe you're not worth him." Yuuri stared at him shocked. How did he know? 

"You're very easy to read." He smiled. "Look, he wants to know you. Why don't you write to him."

Yuuri shook his head. "I can't." His voice was tiny and unsure.

Phichit sighed and took a sip of his own tea. He paused as he put his cup back on the table. "You know..." A mischievous grin crept on the Thai man's face. "You don't have to tell him now. You could _make_ him see you..."

Yuuri looked at Phichit confused. "What do you mean?"

"You have the dedication to make it, Yuuri. I don't think I have seen anyone with step sequences as clean and passionate as yours. Not even Viktor."

Yuuri could feel the color rising in his cheeks. "I still don't follow."

"Make it to his level. Be his competitor. _Make him see you._ Who says you need skin to skin communication to make someone fall in love with you?" Yuuri thought for a moment. It wasn't a terrible idea. His goal had always been to compete on the same ice as Viktor. Now... It would mean more. He would be even more determined to succeed. He would earn the respect of Viktor. Not get it handed to him by fate. He felt the warmth of hope spreading inside him. He looked at Phichit. "You really think I can do it?" The Thai skater beamed. "You bet! And I'll be right behind you the whole way!" Yuuri felt tears prick his eyes. "Thank you!" He was going to do it. He would prove to the world, to Viktor and to himself that he was a worthy soulmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLOT TWIST! Yuuri finds out before Viktor does. I am sorry this one took so long to write. I have been in tech for a show. If any of you are involved with or in the performing arts industry, you know basically everything in your life stops when Tech week begins. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Feel free to ask any questions or give feedback.


	7. Ink Stains and Interviews

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did some research and discovered that the Cannon Sochi Grand Prix actually occurred in 2012. SO! I back dated everything a little. One of those being that the Grand Prix mentioned in the last chapter actually occurred in Tokyo... Hopefully everything will line up date wise now. Also, I am sorry Yuzuru Hanu, I'm treating your success as Viktor's.

_Olympic Silver medalist Viktor Nikiforov takes Gold in the Mens Grand Prix Final in Bejing. Could this mean a new contender for gold during the Sochi Olympics Mens Figure Staking?_

_After his second place finish during the Grand Prix Final, Olympic Gold medalist Evan Lysacek announces his retirement._

_Evan Lysacek announces his engagement to his soulmate? Did this cause his retirement? Read more to hear their love story._

_Viktor Nikiforov, Rising star. Russia's hope to unseat American figure skating powerhouse._

_Figure skating Evan Lysacek retires, makes way for new living legend Viktor Nikiforov._

 

Viktor was different.

Since the last year, Chris and he had become quite close. It was liberating to have a friend that wasn't constantly talking about their soulmate. They took an extraordinarily wild off season trip that led to Viktor's inspiring program theme "Desire". It had music from all over the world and expressed how different cultures showed desire. Needless to say the audience drank it in like water to the thirsty. It won him his first gold.

The more his focus centered on the ice the more he blossomed as a technical genius. His jumps improved, his spins became tighter, and he even added a quad. His step sequences were his weakest element but his technical more than made up the difference.

He was on top and no one could stop him. Especially after Lysacek retired. 

That's when he started to gain major attention from the media.

Interviews were a constant for him. He was either asleep at home, at the gym, on a plane, on the ice or in an interview. He didn't have time for love.

Sure there was the occasional fling. He found that he enjoyed the intense physical connection that came with such one or two day flings. Such relationships never lasted. It made his heart hurt but he didn't care.

The one relationship that did last longer than a few days was a woman that Chris had introduced him to. She was a gymnist from France. She was kind, caring and also didn't have a soulmate. The relationship ended after a very painful slap to the face and Viktor left abandoned in the middle of Normandy.

He apparently was too cool with her. _Your heart mirrors your goddamn ice. _Was he really that cold? He understood he was certainly distracted when it came to being a lover, but he was focused on his career.__

__He shrugged it off and moved on. It just wasn't meant to be. Maybe nothing was meant to be._ _

__He was currently sitting in the green room of an American talk show. He was being interviewed by Good Morning America because of Lysacek's retirement._ _

__His phone buzzed._ _

__'You better behave yourself today, Viktor. I don't want another media storm.'_ _

__'Of course I will, Yakov. You know me. ;)'_ _

__He then promptly shut his phone off before his coach could counter his response._ _

__"Mr. Nikiforov?" A nervous looking Production Assistant knocked on the door and poked his head in._ _

__"Yes?" He gave the PA his charming smile. The assistant blushed._ _

__"Uh. T-They're ready for you. Could you follow me please?"_ _

__"Certainly." He got up and adjusted his suit. He followed the assistant through the hallway. The assistant was rather cute looking. "So, are you a fan of figure skating?"_ _

__"Ha! Well a bit. I watch the big competitions, like the Olympic, Grand Prix and the Worlds." He laughed nervously and hugged his clipboard tighter. "But apart from that, I'm too busy with work."_ _

__"Oh, I know what thats like." He gave the PA a wink as they entered the No Talking Zone._ _

__He took his place on set as they went to commercial. The hosts introduced themselves and congratulated him on his gold. He smiled and exchanged the pleasantries with his usual camera charm._ _

__They came back from commercial and played a small video segment on his rising career. They then took a few minutes discussing his training regiments and the infamous trip that inspired his season theme._ _

__"Now you know America's Evan Lysacek retired this year to pursue a family life with his soulmate." The host said with a smile. "How do you think that is going to effect the skating community?"_ _

__"I've known Evan as a competitor for about three years now. I skated against him during the Vancouver Olympics this year. He had amazing passion and dedication. I know he will truly be missed by the community. But I think I speak for the whole community when I wish him well with his family. He's worked hard and deserves some well earned happiness. Best of luck to him and his Fiancee."_ _

__"Well I think everyone can agree with you there. But you are certainly doing an amazing job filling his shoes."_ _

__"Well, thank you. I certainly am trying to improve and grow."_ _

__"I don't think anyone can argue with that. But you know we have to ask. Have you met your soulmate? Are there any plans in your future to retire to pursue a family?"_ _

__Viktor laughed and smiled his classic charming smile._ _

__"I don't think the skating world will have to worry about losing another skater so soon." He folded his hand leaned forward. "You see I don't have a soulmate."_ _

__The hosts gasped and Viktor nodded. "Its true." He laughed at the slightly pitying expressions on the hosts faces. "You see, a friend of me told me once that you don't need a soulmate to be happy. And that is 100% true. I believe that the ice is my soulmate. I can't honestly see myself leaving it anytime soon. And it's been helpful not to have a soulmate to distract me."_ _

__"Well there you have it folks. Some truly sage words of wisdom from rising figure skating star Viktor Nikiforov. Next we'll go to Al Rocher for the weather."_ _

__They cut to commercial and he was escorted back to his green room. He grabbed a cup of tea and hung around chatting with the staff._ _

__He delayed turning on his phone. He smirked as he sipped his coffee. He knew Yakov was going to be furious with him._ _

__Maybe he would give his number to that Production Assistant..._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahahahaha..... I told someone in the comments last chapter that these children weren't going to have the best time... Sorry, Yuuri. Feel free to leave feed back or comments! I love hearing from you guys!


	8. Ink Stains and Alcohol Swabs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha, don't you just love it when you lose all your work on a chapter and have to start from scratch? But plus side is you get an extra long chapter.  
> Anyways enjoy!

Two points. Was what had stopped him from making the Grand Prix finals last year. Two measly points. Yuuri knew that he couldn't change over night, but he was getting impatient. He wanted to break into finals. He wanted to be able to compete with Viktor on the same ice. He to be good enough.

He wanted Viktor to look his way.

Although, no one could really blame him. Celestino often told him he put too much pressure on himself. Not only was he pursing an active figure skate career, he was also a full time student. When he went to Detroit he had picked a course of study that would be relevant and useful later in his career. It was only until the third year of his college, that he realized how much time Sports Medicine would take.

He spent his time either on the ice, in the ballet studio, in class, in library, or the physical therapy lab. The rest of his time was the few hours he spent collapsed in his bed asleep. He liked feeling busy, but now that the first round of prelims for the Grand Prix was finished, he was in an extremely intense gear up for the next round. 

His next event would be the cup of China. He had about two weeks left till he was expected to get on a plane. All he needed to to do was win bronze and he'd earn his spot in the finals.

"Yuuuuuuri!" Phichit grinned at his roommate. Yuuri was buried in papers on his bed. He was working through his muscular anatomy assignment and only halfway finished labeling the over large diagram. He glanced up to see Phichit bouncing in excitement.

"What is it, Phichit? I'm kinda in the middle of something. This is due on Monday and I won't have time to finish this with practice this weekend.

Phichit bounded over with his laptop and cleared away some papers so he could hop on Yuuri's bed. "I just found a clip of your man."

"Phichit," Yuuri blushed at the thought. "Stop calling me that. He doesn't even know who I am yet."

"Yet." Phichit repeated with a pointed look. "Anyway, let's watch it."

"Fine what's it about?"

"I honestly don't know. He was on GMA this morning to talk about Lysacek's retirement."

Yuuri leaned over to look at the screen with Phichit. The interview started the same as most of Viktor's most recent. There was montage of clips from his various programs and a voice over lining the success of the skater. Yuuri's heart skipped a beat when the camera switched to the reporters and then panned out to include Viktor, with his signature smile on his face. 

Yuuri found himself smiling too. He was so in awe of Viktor. He was doing so well. He felt an odd sense of pride when ever anyone praised Viktor. That was _his_ soulmate.

They discussed the trip he had taken with Christopher and his training regiment. Then they moved on to the topic of Evan Lysacek.

They had met the skater only once when he had done a workshop for the Detroit Skate Club, but could agree with Viktor's assessment of the skater. He really would be missed.

_Have you met your soulmate? Are there any plans in your future to retire to pursue a family?_

_I don't think the skating world will have to worry about losing another skater so soon. You see I don't have a soulmate._

Yuuri's heart stopped. Phichit's mouth dropped open.

_Its true. You see, a friend of me told me once that you don't need a soulmate to be happy. And that is 100% true. I believe that the ice is my soulmate. I can't honestly see myself leaving it anytime soon. And it's been helpful not to have a soulmate to distract me._

Phichit slammed the lid of the laptop closed. He pushed it aside and caught his friend up in a fierce hug. Yuuri felt his breath hitch. It felt as if he had been slapped in the face. He blinked and felt the warmth of his tears against his cheeks.

"Phichit," His voice felt detached as he pried his friend off him. "I'm going to go for a run." He got up and quickly put on his sneakers.

"Yuuri, wait, let's talk about this-" He left without a word.

Yuuri ran.

And ran.

And ran.

He had no idea where he was going, the streets dimly lit by the light of the street lamps. He just ran. At one point he ran along the Detroit river. He veered off fairly quickly when the city lights shone silver in the water, reminding him of Viktor's hair.

He couldn't tell how long he had run. All he knew was that his legs were starting to feel numb.

Eventually he found himself on familiar streets again. He was about 6 blocks from the rink. That's what he needed. The ice could always clear his head. He turned at the next street and headed to the building.

He halted at the entrance. It was dark. He tried the door. Locked. He glanced at his watch. 11 pm.

He was hit hard by homesickness. He had always been able to go to Ice Castle when ever he wanted. Hell, Yuuko's family had given him a key to the building. Here in Detroit he was ruled by the schedule of the venue and his coaches.

He sat on the steps and buried his face in his hands.

 _You see I don't have a soulmate._

Was it his fault? Was it because he was selfish and wanted to earn his trust? Did he hate him for not being able to respond? Why did he keep messing everything up? Is this why he had stopped writing? Stopped drawing? Viktor _knew_ Yuuri at least existed.

And yet despite the lack of writing, Yuuri hadn't pulled up enough courage to put pen to skin.

After years, Yuuri ached desperately for the Cyrillic to dance its way across his skin.

He sat and let the tears over take him.

 

When he got back to the dorm, Phichit was sitting up nervously waiting for his roommate to return.

"Yuuri!" Phichit rushed over and hugged him tightly again. "I was so worried. You went out without your phone and it was late and this is Detroit and you were upset and I was worried. I was about to call a search party-"

"Phichit!" Yuuri pulled back at from the hug. "I'm alive! Seriously calm down." 

"Okay! Okay! I was just worried..." His friend eyed him. "You okay Yuuri?"

"Honestly? No." Phichit's frown deepened. "Let's have a couple drinks tonight. I can finish this assignments later."

Phichit obligingly went to his top drawer and pulled out the bottle of vodka they had for celebrations and moments like these. "Movie?"

"Yeah..."

It was about two in the morning when Phichit came back from a bathroom break to find Yuuri passed out on the pile of pillows and blankets they had laid out in front of the TV. The Thai skater was a little worse for wear himself, but had the presence of mind to drape on of these blankets over his friend and made sure his neck was supported well.

As he turned to climb into his own bed, he noticed a pen in the hand of his roommate. He took it out of his hand and glanced at the sleeping man's forearms. Sure enough there was a message written in sloppy English.

He felt a small bubble of protective anger in is stomach. He crossed to his desk and god a small bottle of rubbing alcohol from the first aid kit. He applied a little on to a cotton ball and returned to Yuuri.

He hesitated. Should he? This was meddling in soulmates.

No, Viktor did not deserve Yuuri, not yet.

His resolve returning, he gently rubbed the message off his roommate's arm. When he finished he pulled the blanket higher and patted Yuuri on the head. He would do anything to take care of his friend. He smiled as he drifted off that night.

 

The long day of interviews, sponsor meetings and travel had left Viktor exhausted. He fell asleep almost immediately after he boarded his red-eye flight back to St. Petersburg. He had training again tomorrow afternoon and had to get the sleep while he could. 

Eyes closed and sleeping, he didn't notice the letters sketch themselves into existence on his arm. 

Not ten minutes passed and they melted away. Viktor stirred in his sleep and settled.

_I'm sorry. I want to be worthy. I love you. Please don't feel lonely._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pitchit is not really happy with Viktor right now.
> 
> I am not going to do a chapter on this, but because of this emotional set back, Yuuri does not make the Podium in the Cup of China.


	9. Ink Stains and Photo Ops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yakov and Viktor fight and our children have their first interactions.

The last notes of "Stay by Me." played across the rink's speakers. Viktor's arms extended into a final pose. There was silence. Then the crowd burst into thunderous applause.

Viktor relaxed and blew a few kisses to the audience. He did a quick lap of the rink and waved. As he skated off he snagged a poodle plush and a Russian flag that had been thrown onto the ice for him. Draping the flag over his shoulders, he met his coach at the barrier.

"What the hell was that, Vitya?" Yakov barked as he handed his skater his blade guards.

"That, my dear Yakov, is another Grand Prix Gold" Viktor flashed the older man a heart shaped smirk as he locked the guards on. He made his way to the kiss and cry and awaited his scores.

The crowd erupted. He had won gold for the 5th time.

Inwardly he frowned as his scores flashed up on the screen. It was a good ten points away from his personal best. But it was more than enough. It put him fifteen points ahead of the closest competition.

They were escorted from the kiss and cry to the locker room. It was empty, the other competitors having either changed or readied themselves for the awards ceremony.

Yakov rounded on his skater as soon as he was alone. He tore into him. His spins weren't tight enough, his step sequences were sloppy, he wasn't extending his leg enough. Viktor tuned him out. The technical aspects he could fix. But those tiny mistakes should not have set him back a whole ten points. This was a much more difficult program with higher possible points.

"You have no inspiration Viktor." The words snapped his focus back to his coach. "Your jumps are perfect and technical flaws minuscule."

Yakov stared at him hard. "I have known you for how long? I can tell when my top skater feels no connection to his program."

Viktor blushed. "I told you I do!"

"Bullshit."

Viktor gaped at his coach.

"You picked this program because that little production assistant you'd messing with for the last year was tired of you."

Viktor purses his lips. He had indeed, been frustrated by his break up at the time of the program choices. He was angry that he couldn't seem to hold the affections of someone more than a few months.

"You stopped giving a shit about him after the first competition. You know how I know? That's when you're program started to loose the expressiveness. This program is just-" The older Russian waved his hand searching for the right word. "Cold." He paused. "Dead."

Viktor flushed. He felt like he had been slapped in the face. "Yakov-"

The locker room door opened. Chris was standing in the door way. He had a frown on his face and an eyebrow raised. "I hate to interrupt, but they are looking for us medalists." 

Viktor stood and glared at Yakov. He then turned to Chris and plastered his media smile on. "Da, let's go get our medals Chris." He pushed past the Swiss skater and left the changing room.

"Christopher," Yakov barked as Chris looked after Viktor. The older Russian's voice softened and lowered. "You saw it too, right?"

Chris didn't answer. He simply looked at the floor. Of course he saw. He knew Viktor the back of his hand. And he was partly to blame for it.

Yakov sighed. "He always listened to you more than he did to me." He passed Chris and halted. "If he doesn't get his act together, this will mark the end of his career."

Chris knew. He had to fix it.  
\----------------------------------------------------

"And Yuri, listen to me when I tell you that your step sequences are all kinds of sloppy. You'll never stand up in the senior division with only jumps-"

"I won. Who gives a shit, Old Man. Quit nagging me." 

Viktor continued to playfully chide his young rink mate. The boy was a slight stick of a thing and was immensely talented. He could see a lot of the cocky drive that had plagued his own early days. Yet he never remembered being so grouchy or foul mouthed. They walked out of the competitor's only portion of the rink. Yakov was there to greet them. Luckily his ire was directed at the younger skater this time. He did shoot Viktor a stern glance after ripping into the younger skater once more.

Yuri glanced away, totally ignoring his coach's rant. Viktor watched as his eyes caught something and his face split into a look of disgust. Blinking, Viktor followed his gaze.

There stood a slight young Asian man. He stood several inches shorter than Viktor with dark messy hair. He looked back at the Russian Champion with wide brown eyes hidden behind big blue frame. 

He looked panicked, like a kid who had been caught looking at something he shouldn't have. The faintest blush was spreading across his cheeks. He

A fan.

Viktor turned and smiled at the man trying to set him at ease. "A commemorative photo?" He saw the man breath out, not noticing how his shoulders slumped. He held up his hand in a welcoming gesture. "Sure."

To his surprise, the man looked horrified.

He turned away without a word. A reported standing near by called after him. "Katsuki-kun! Don't you want a photo with Viktor?"

The man ignored him and walked out of the rink. Viktor only now noticed the man was wearing a skating jacket and pulling luggage. 

Viktor felt cold. He was one of the competitors. He had competed against this man and didn't even bother to pay enough attention to realize who it was. Granted he had come in last place and had avoided everyone on the rink.

God. Maybe Viktor was an asshole after all. 

What had Natalie said back in Normandy?

Cold as the ice you skate on?

Maybe she wasn't wrong. He felt a heat bubble up in him as he turned back to Yakov and Yuri. He tried to plaster his smile back on and laugh idly at the lecture he was getting. What was this feeling? Viktor knew.

Shame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank You all for your patience. I can't believe how many people have read this fic. I know I am not the best writer and don't update that often, but I appreciate you all sticking with me! I will be releasing one more chapter from Yuuri's POV before we get to the banquet. I hope you all enjoy! Please feel free to leave comments and suggestions. I love hearing from you!


	10. Ink Stains and Failure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh look the other child gets in a bit of a fight too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAAAAAAT? Another Update in the space of a few hours? Am I sick? AM I DYING?
> 
> No. Just avoiding responsibilities.
> 
> Thank you for all your support and kind words! I write without a beta so please feel free to point out any errors. I also love hearing your opinions and thoughts on the chapter. I try to respond to most comments so please feel free to comment below.
> 
> Enjoy!

Men's Figure Skating: Katsuki Suffers Utter Defeat.

Katsuki Defeated: Still Needs To Work On Nerves

After Horrendous Defeat, Does Competative Figure Skating Still Hold a Spot for Katsuki?

After a Disappointing Finish, Will Katsuki Continue Skating?

\---------------------------------------------------------

The article titles flashed by him as he scrolled through his screen. Retirement, defeat, disappointment. 

Worthless.

That's all he was.

"Yuuri! Don't look at the news!" Celestino chided at him.

Yuuri scrolled past another title and found himself reading it out loud. "Katsuki Fell to Last Place, Is This His Last Season?"

"Yuuri..." Yuuri looked up at his coach. He was staring at his skater with a mixture of concern and pity. Pity, of course. That's all someone of his skating ability deserved. He couldn't handle the pressure.

He had freaked out the week before finals and started snacking when ever he was off the ice and then proceeded to eat way more than his diet plan alotted at meals. He wanted to stop, but it had been the only way he could stave off the ever growing panic attack. 

He managed to preform decently well in the Short Program. He was even in 4th place. Not an impossible jump to the podium. To his Viktor.

No, not his.

"Sorry Ciao-Ciao, I'm going to go to the restroom." Yuuri excused himself. He made his way quickly to the bathroom and locked himself into a stall. 

He felt the heat of shame rising in the pit of his stomach. Viktor was not his. At this point he never would be.

It had all fallen apart the night before the Free skate. He had received a call from his sister Mari. His dog Vicchan had been hit by a truck when his leash broke and he had run into the street. They had rushed him to the Vet. He had seemed to have been in stable condition through the night and into the morning but an about an hour before he got on the ice he had received the news that he very suddenly took a turn of the worse. Then only about 20 minute before, he got the call saying his best friend had passed away. 

Vicchan.

It looked as though he couldn't perform well even for the sake of his dogs memory.

Worthless.

Yuuri jumped as his phone buzzed.

He looked at the screen. Phichit was calling him. He stared at it a moment, then swiped the call away. He couldn't face his friend right now. He knew he would hear the sound of disappointment at his loss. And he just couldn't right now.

Yuuri almost dropped his phone as it began to buzz again. It was a voicemail from his mother. He supposed that he should call her back. He quickly dialed her number and waited as the line rang.

"Hello?"

'Yuuri?' The voice on the other end was tired and thick with sleep.

"Mom, were you sleeping?"

'Ah, yes, but its alright.'

"Sorry."

'I suppose you got my message. I saw your performance.'

Yuuri's heart sank. Of course she had. "Oh, you watched it on TV?"

'Yes, Yuuri we all did. The Inn had a public viewing.'

"Huh? A public viewing?" Yuuri felt his heart sink into his stomach. Great now everyone back home had seen his failure too,

'Of course Yuuri! You were so cute on screen, like watching a movie star."

Yuuri felt his face flush. "Please, stop it it's so embarassing!" He laughed but it quickly died on his lips. 

'We always have one when you're away at competition. We do it because we are proud of you and want to support you.'

Yuuri felt a pang of guilt. God. He was such a disappointment. Everyone had been counting on him and supporting him... and this happened. He felt his lip quiver and tears prick his eyes.

"I'm sorry. I messed up." He hung up. He didn't want his mother to hear him cry. He didn't want her to be even more disappointed in him.

He couldn't hold back the sobbing now. It hurt. This is what he had worked for. This was supposed to be the big day where he showed Viktor he was worthy. Where he made his family proud. Where he made Vicchan proud.

And he fucked it up.

Maybe the news was right. He should just give up. Reti-

SLAM

Yuuri let out undignified yelp. He slowly unlocked to the door to apologize to the other person.

"Sorry-" Yuuri froze. Standing in front of him was a very angry blond teenager with piercing green eyes. It was the Junior Divisions Gold Medalist. Yuri Plisetsky. The Russian Punk.

Yuri was staring at the Japanese skater with a mixture of hatred, disgust and disdain. Yuuri could almost feel himself shrinking into himself. What the hell? What he do to deserve that glare.

"Hey." Yuri pointed a slender finger at him. "I'm competing in the senior division next year. We don't need two Yuris in the same bracket. Incompetant skaters like you should just retire." Yuuri's heart skipped a beat. So that's why he was here. Yet another person telling him he wasn't worth it. He felt his heart tighten and fresh tears beginning to burn his eyes. He was going to cry again.

"MORON!" The Russian screamed in his face. Yuuri jumped again at the sudden change in volume.

The Russian turned and stalked out of the bathroom. And Yuuri was left starting after him. 

What the hell just happened?

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The truth was, even if he left the sport he knew a new talented Japanese skater would easily take his place and rise through the ranks. He knew that. Maybe it would be more of a service to just fade into the background and retire. Then he wouldn't be such a shame to his country.

"Katsuki!" A familiar voice called to him as he and Ciao Ciao were leaving the rink. He turned to see the newscaster Morooka who had been practically Yuuri's personal liaison with the Japanese press.

"Don't give up." The declaration was almost a shout."Its too early for you to retire!"

Yuuri looked away. His heart sank. So there were people who still held on to the vain notion that he might be successful.

"Its not like I've made a decision yet." A Lie. "Please don't make assumptions." Even if they're right.

He could hear Morooka badgering him with questions about his future. He responded vaguely and without really giving the man much attention. He didn't really want to talk about this right now. He just wanted to go home.

His eyes wondered to the windows. People were taking selfies and chatting happily in front of the rink. His eyes finally rested on a lady who had a fluffy dog clutched in her arms.

It was a poodle... just like Vicchan.

He felt his hear break all over again.

Ah... I'm sorry Vicchan.

'Yuri' 

Yuuri turned at his name on instinct. His eyes caught the form of a tall silver haired man with dazzling blue eyes. He was walking next to Yuri Plisetsky and playfully chiding him for the flaws in his step sequence.

He froze, staring at the living Russian Legend.

Viktor Nikiforov.

His soulmate.

The whole reason he was here in the first place. In that moment the only thing he could see or hear was him. He walked with such grace and came to rest with his hip slightly cocked. His back was turned and Yuuri marveled at the long limbs and the effortless grace with which they moved. Even off the ice.

Then his head turned. Those blue eyes stared back at him. Those lovely, beautiful, questioning, intense blue eyes stared at him. No. They caught him staring at the Russian.

He started and felt a blush creeping up his neck, eyes going wide in embarrassment. What was he doing here standing staring rudely at Viktor. Hadn't he sworn he would make him look at him with his own power? Unless... I mean he did have a decent short program. Maybe-

The eyes had taken on a look of cheerful understanding. "A commemorative photo?"

Yuuri's heart stopped. A what? He felt his shoulders slump.

"Sure." Viktor held his hand up in a gesture welcoming him for a photo.

Yuuri felt as if he had been slapped. A fan. Viktor thought he was a fan. He had skated on the same ice, in the same competition and he thought he was simply a fan. Some how he felt angry. Was Viktor so high and mighty he could not recognize the very people he competed against?

Before he could stop himself, he turned away and walked out of the rink. Of course he didn't recognize a second rate skater. Viktor didn't have time for people like that. He was stupid. Stupid. STUPID for thinking he could make Viktor look at him with his own power. He would never be able to. He had left his home, gone to Detroit, trained for years and still couldn't amount to anything worthy of Viktor's attention.

He didn't deserve Viktor.

He desperately did not want to attend the banquet the following evening. He begged Celestino to let him just take an early flight home. Celestino vehemently refused saying that no matter how bad he felt, he owed it to his sponsors to show his face. He didn't have a choice.

He wanted to go home.

One banquet and this would all be over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhh Poor children. Next Chapter- THE Banquet. ;) get ready for some dumb drunk antics.


	11. Ink Stains and French Champaign

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The infamous Banquet.

Viktor trudged to the hotel ballroom. He couldn’t get the that skater out of his head. He had been such an ass. Was he really so aloof that he couldn’t look a person he had shared the ice with in the eye and not recognize the same dedication and effort that it took for them to get there?

“Viktor!” Chris’s voice snapped him from his reverie. The Swiss skater waved at him from outside of the doors to the banquet. The sounds of music were playing within as Viktor made his way over to his friend.

“Beau Soir, Chris.” He flashed his friend a smile and made to walk through the doors. A hand gripped his upper arm.

“Viktor…”

Viktor sighs and halted. He dropped the relatively fake smile. His friend could always see through it. “You can still see right through me, no?”

“Viktor… what happened on the ice? It didn’t even feel like you out there.”

Viktor blinked. The ice? He looked at his friend. So that’s what this was about.

Of course it was. Chris hadn’t been around when he met the skater in the hall. 

“The ice…” He looked away. What had happened. He was almost technically perfect. No one could deny that.

But Yakov was right. He didn’t feel connected. He couldn’t find that spark that drive. Why?

“It’s…” Chris’s voice sounded hesitant. Viktor looked up at him. The Swiss man had a look of pained concern on his face. “It’s not because of what I said… is it?”

That conversation all those years ago. The conversation that had let him give up on his soulmate. 

Viktor looked at his hand. He gazed at the alabaster skin staring back at him. Totally utterly blank.

No if his soulmate wanted him. They would have contacted him. For all he knew they could be dead. 

Maybe he really didn’t have a soulmate anymore. 

“Chris,” He placed a heavy hand on his friend’s shoulder. The skater looked up at Viktor. “It’s alright.”  
He gave Chris a soft understanding smile, which was returned.

“Now, let’s get this banquet over with now, shall we?”

\---------------------------------------------------------

Sponsors, smiles, small talk, repeat. Viktor could feel the fatigue dragging at him. While he always loved to meet his fans spending time with them, it zapped him of energy. Sponsors were worse. They were fans that held monetary power over him. It was the least appealing part of his career. He hated having to answering to anyone. He had to pretend to do enough of that with Yakov. 

The woman he was entertaining at the moment was one of his most recent sponsors. She was the heiress of a rather popular Russian investment firm. She seemed less interested in his skating career as she was with his photo shoots. She was going on about the possibility of a photo shoot for her company and how he-really-should-get-into-modeling-professionally-instead-of-skating. He hated that type. He didn’t have time to deal with these kinds of sponsors. If they didn’t understand why he did what he did, they weren’t worth his precious time.

Yakov sensed Viktor’s growing agitation and shot him a warning glare. Catching this he relaxed the furrow in his brow. Then an idea struck him. He waited for a slight break in the conversation and took his chance.

“Excuse me, I’m a bit thirsty I’m going to get a drink.” He bowed out of the conversation and made his way to the refreshment area of the hall. From across the hall he caught Chris’s eye. His friend shot him a sympathetic expression. The poor Swiss man was trapped in his own sponsor meeting. Viktor knew quite well that Chris would rather be on the dance floor making a fool of himself than talking politely with a sponsor. 

Viktor pushed his way through the crowds. Smiling and accepting congratulations. It was a relief when he pushed through to the small open space surrounding the refreshments table. He look up at the table. There was only one other figure there.

It was him. The skater from the rink was there. His slender form leaned against the table. A hand twisted a delicate Champaign flute. Dark brown eyes, half hidden under long black lashes, watched as the liquid swirled and bubbled.

He looked sad.

Vaguely he registered the line of drained glasses behind him. Two, four, six, eight… Was that _Twelve_ glasses?

 

The Japanese skater frowned at his glass and suddenly drained it. He looked up at Viktor. Viktor had to stop himself jumping in surprise at the man’s sudden movement. He watched as those ocher eyes widened in surprise. 

Then the look on Yuuri’s face changed to one of indignation.

“You!” The skater held up an accusatory finger pointed towards Viktor. “Fuck you, man.” The man was being far from quiet. In fact, every word seemed to be growing in volume. People around them stopped their conversations to stare at the spectacle unfolding. “You think you’re such hot shit since you won gold!”

Viktor was stunned he didn’t know what to do. He had never been yelled at quite like this. He felt himself raise his hands defensively. “I’m sorry I-“

The skater ignored his protest and continued, grabbing a full bottle of Champaign form the table behind him. “You’re just a punk! You have no grace and no inspiration.” He took a swig from the bottle and pushed off the table stumbling forward. 

He felt himself take a couple steps back. The man was advancing towards him rather unsteadily. He had switched to Japanese flinging what had to be insults at him, rapidly closing the gap between them.

_Oh God, is this going to turn into a fight?_

The Japanese man brushed past him. Viktor’s heart skipped a beat. 

He turned. Behind him was Yuri, his young rink mate, staring a t the Japanese man with utter disgust. He drunk was gesticulating wildly at the boy as the stream of Japanese flowed unbroken.

“Fuck off, loser.” Yuri flipped the man off and turned to leave.

The Japanese man gasped loudly, started to laugh. “I bet you can’t even dance on my level, you awkward teenage punk!”

Yuri halted. Viktor had to suppress a laugh as he saw Yuri’s ears redden. He had hit a nerve. This was going to be exciting.

Yuri turned slowly. He looked like he was going to murder the man.

That only seemed to amuse the foreign skater even more. Viktor couldn’t suppress a giggle as the man leaned back and laughed heartily. When he recovered, he leaned forward. “I challenge you to a dance off!” Those long fingers extended again, directed at Yuri. A Challenge. “Let’s see who has the better moves!”  
Yuri’s face flushed even redder. “You’re about to get crushed.”

\--------------------------------------------------------

Viktor couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed this hard. He was in tears. His face hurt from smiling so hard. 

The two challengers had attracted quite the crowd. The banquet was now officially totally out of control. 

The Japanese man was quite skilled when it came to dancing. His body twisted and twirled and flew through the air like it was natural. He seemed to know more styles of dance than one could count and executed them with such connection and confidence. The DJ was getting hyped. He was taking requests from on lookers who wanted to see what they would come up with next. The genre’s got wilder and wilder. At one point the Japanese skater was throwing his body around in gravity defying break dancing moves.

Poor Yura. He just couldn’t keep up with the dancing. He was heaving and puffing about twenty minutes in. His opponent seemed to have ridiculous stamina and yuri was obviously getting fatigued. But the sparkle in Yuri’s eye told, Viktor that the boy was having fun. Though, he sure as hell would never admit it.

Viktor himself had seemed to get dragged into the dancing at one point. He was flushed and sweaty and felt light as a bird.

He felt like he had all those years ago when he first landed a quad in competition.

Wildly happy.

He hadn’t kept track of Chris. He was to entranced by the hilarious spectacle before him.

“Hey Vitya,” Viktor jumped as Chris threw an arm around his friend. “You wanna see something exciting?” He gave him a wink and pushed off towards the dancing duo in the middle of the circle. 

“Hey Yuuri!” Both of the competitors halted dancing and looked over at Chris. “The hotel staff have kindly set us up a little surprise.” Chris gestured over his shoulder. Over in the DJ’s corner where there was a low hanging ceiling, there was a stripper poll. 

“Oh fuck no.” Yuri raised his hands in defeat. “Even I have standards.” 

“Fine, I was talking to the other Yuuri anyway.” Chris flashed Yuuri a smile. “Wadda ya say? How about you show us some of your special moves.”

\----------------------------------------------

Viktor was dead he had to be. He had died and gone to heaven. The gorgeous skater was currently hanging upside down, from a pole half naked and twisting down it as he shed his shirt.

Yuuri, that’s what Chris had called him, was a sight to behold. He watched mesmerized as he flipped and spun and undulated on the pole. His different muscles tightened and released with the changing of positions. His powerful legs flexed and his abs tensed.

Damn it was hot in here.

No. _Yuuri_ was hot.

He felt his heartbeat quicken as he locked eyes with Yuuri as he spun. The dancer’s eyelids were heavy and cloudy as he stared at Viktor. It seemed like they were inviting him. 

Trying to tell him something

\----------------------------------------------

The party was winding down. Yuuri had eventually gotten drunk enough that he could no longer stay on the pole. Viktor was helping him slip his clothes back on. He got his shirt on. Both of them we’re giggling madly at the awkward attempts and fumbles. Yuuri was also babbling to him about his family home as he was helping pull his pants on.

Yuuri stepped on the hem of his pant. Viktor caught the man as he stumbled forward. The Japanese skater had flung his arms around Viktor’s neck to steady himself. 

Yuuri smiled up at him. It was wide and genuine. It made Viktor’s stomach fill with butterflies.

“Be my coach, Viktor!”

Viktor swore that in that moment his heart had actually stopped.

He would. For this person. He would do anything.

\----------------------------------------------

Viktor was practically dragging Yuuri back up to his room. The poor boy could barely stand let alone make his was back to the safety of his hotel room. He glanced at the door as he passed them, trying to find the one that matched Yuuri’s key card.

When he found the room he opened the door and led the Japanese man over to the bed. He wanted to take care of him and get his safely tucked into bed. 

The drunk man’s legs gave out when they hit the bed causing him to fall on to the mattress and drag Viktor down with him in the process. 

Viktor pushed himself up. He was on top of Yuuri who was sprawled beneath him. The sight was breath taking. He really was quite beautiful. 

A delicate hand reached for Viktor’s face. It brushed a few wisps away from his brow in a gentle movement. “Ore no Tamashii no Hanryo.” Deep chocolate eyes locked with blue oceans. “Tsui ni mita.”

Viktor didn’t understand it the words, but his heart fluttered and a blush spread across his while skin.

Yuuri’s face broke into the most heartbreakingly pure smile. He then closed his eyes and fell asleep, smile still plastered across his face.

Viktor blinked down at the boy. He felt lost. He didn’t ever want to see anything less than a smile on this boy’s face. 

He got off the bed and looked around. He spotted the crystal glasses on the refreshment stand and quickly filled it with water. He spied a bottle of aspirin on the counter and grabbed it on the way out. He returned to the sleeping form. He placed the water on the bedside table along with the pills an then carefully removed the man’s glasses.

He bent over and placed a gentle kiss on Yuuri’s forehead. “доброй ночи, Солнышко“ 

He left the room, sparing one last glance at the man who had very suddenly captured his heart.

For once in his life, he wasn’t thinking about a goddamn soulmate.

\--------------------------------------------

Viktor knocked on Yuuri’s door the next morning. It was rather early at 8 am, but he figured the skater would appreciate the coffee after his night of drinking. He had a two very strong cups of coffee in his hands.

There was no answer.

He knocked again. No answer.

He frowned and made his way down to the front desk. He asked whether he could leave a message for Yuuri.

“I’m sorry, sir.” The front desk agent gave him a look of sympathy. “He checked out of the hotel about two hours ago.”  
Viktor felt his heart sink.

And he hadn’t said a word to him.

They didn’t even get a chance to exchange numbers.

Yuuri was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> Ore no Tamashii no Hanryo- My Better half/My soulmate
> 
> Tsui ni mita.- Finally you see me.
> 
> доброй ночи, Солнышко- Goodnight, sun (in the diminutive form). Its supposed to be a term of endearment.
> 
> Hello everyone! There you have it! The banquet! This is the only side of this event that you get since Yuuri obviously does not remember anything. I was going to end it on a happy note, but it appears that I am a glutton for punishment. Anyways. Enjoy. Please feel free to comment. I always love hearing your thoughts! Also! We're so close to 500 kudos! Please share this fic!
> 
> If you want to want to talk to me directly or send me something you can find me at my [tumblr](http://drfanfare.tumblr.com/)


	12. Ink Stains and Homecomings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAAAAAAT? Extra long chapter. Wooo. Seriously. This was like 10 pages in a word doc. What has happened to me?

Home.

The moment the airplane’s door opened and the cabin decompressed he knew. The air felt cleaner, lighter and familiar. This wasn’t the suffocating pollution that followed him where ever he went in Detroit. There was the slightest bite of winter on the air, but the unmistakable soft scent of sakura blossoms in the air.

This was home. His home.

A home he had not truly returned to for five years.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yuuri was tired. He had left the United States nearly a full day ago. Yet he could not help stare out the window on the train. Everything looked so different. There were more houses, more buildings, the cities had taller skylines. Even in its familiarity, everything looked foreign. The countryside was slowly but surely becoming more and more urbanized.

Time had changed his home. He supposed it had changed himself as well.

Once upon a time Yuuri had been Japan’s Ace. But that had changed. The last year had brought some of Yuuri’s most crushing failures. He had bombed Nationals, didn’t make the podium in the Four Continents prelims and didn’t even qualify for Worlds. He had practically self-destructed after Sochi.

By some miracle, he had managed to finish his degree. He had taken a lighter course load in what was supposed to be his last semester of college, supposedly to focus more on his skating. The Sports Medicine department had taken pity on him, knowing how grueling his training schedule was, by granting him passing grades in classes that he surely would have failed otherwise. In the new term he had by some miracle completed the last two classes he had left along with his internship. He made it to the Grand Prix Finals... And well. We saw how that went.

But, he _had_ graduated.

And he couldn’t skate the way he used to. Not for competitions. He couldn’t find the motivation to practice his routines or keep himself fit for the season. And when he did skate he would be idly practicing old routines and odd figures. Nothing of substance. The only program he had managed to bring himself to practice was… well. It didn’t matter now.

He was retiring. If he couldn’t skate, there was no point in continuing to spend the time and money that could otherwise be devoted to helping his family. 

He couldn’t afford the luxury of distractions.

He tore his eyes away from the window and looked down at his fingers. 

_Ah…_ He felt a pang in his chest. There was some fresh ink blossoming on the fingers of his right hand. He probably was signing a couple autographs before the Free Skate at Worlds.

Yuuri looked out the window again, not really seeing anything. Just staring. His heart felt uncomfortably tight. This was probably the first time he had missed Viktor skating. He should have been on that ice with him. Competing for the same gold. But he wasn’t good enough.

They may have been in the same country, but Viktor and Yuuri were worlds apart.

He sighed heavily and closed his eyes.

_I’m sorry Viktor... I couldn’t make you see me…_

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yuuri pulled the face mask down to inhale the familiar scent of his hometown. Sakura, sea and clean fresh air. That much was still the same. He’d missed this. He really had been away too long.

The train station hadn’t changed much over the last five years. The walls were still old, the tile still the same tan that he had grown up with. The only real addition he noticed was the track information signs and the new escalator situated next to the stairs.

He stared hard at the stairs. He should probably take them. They were good for his health.

But he was tired. And unfit. And he just didn’t care anymore.

As he descended the escalator he glanced around at the walls. The ads were fewer and far between. More often than not, they sported the words like “Going out of Business” or “Final Sale”. Had Hasetsu’s economy suffered that much in such a short time? Mari had said it was bad but this was…

All thoughts of economy were driven from his mind as he cleared the ceiling of the floor below him.

There at the base of the elevator was a huge display.

Of him. Skating. On a backdrop of cherry blossoms.

“YUURI!”

Yuuri jumped at the loud familiar female voice. He flailed hopelessly trying to find a place to hide.

“Why are you skulking around?”

He turned. He there was no escaping it.  
“M-Minako-sensei”

His long time dance instructor beamed brightly and did a literal pirouette in excitement. She spread open a large banner with his name on it.

“Welcome back, after five long years!”

He hadn’t told her about his plans to come home. “W-why are you here?” 

“Oh stand up straight, will you?” He felt his body straighten on reflex. How did she know he would arrive today. But wait, she regularly drank at his parent’s hotel. They must have been the one to tell her… it wouldn’t be out of character for her to make every effort to greet the man who was her star pupil.

_Was_ her star pupil.

“Hey isn’t that Yuuri?” “Why haven’t we heard anything about him in the news recently?” “Don’t you remember how he bombed that big competition last year?”

Yuuri was panicking. He could hear all the whispers. Too many eyes were on him. He knew. He knew he was a failure why did everyone have to keep reminding him?

He made it through the barrier. He just wanted to be home. In his own room. Alone. Where no one could see him with their judgmental eyes.

An elderly man approached Yuuri. “Please let me shake your hand.”

This man obviously didn’t realize how much of a failure Yuuri really was. “Sorry, I’m in a hurry…” He would just be wasting the man’s time.

“HAAA?” Yuuri flinched at the sound of his dance instructor’s outrage. She pointed a long slender digit in his face. “You lose nothing by shaking hands. Be polite!”

She leaned in further glaring at him. “Viktor Nikiforov is always nice to his fans.” Ow. That one hurt. It really did. He was even too rude for Viktor. He felt himself deflate a little.

He attempted to plaster a smile on his face as Minako guided his hands to his fans. “Thank you for your support.” He let his hand be shook by several of the fans. These people barely knew who he was. Only that he was someone famous enough to land on the walls of the train station. 

Eventually, Yuuri dragged himself and Minako away from the crowd. He wanted out and wanted home.

Minako took the lead dragging Yuuri to her car. “Come on Yuuri we have to say hello to everyone in town!”

He didn’t want to face everyone as a failure. “But what about your ballet classes?”

Yuuri felt the mood drop. Minako’s voice dropped a little and became more serious. “We’re closed today.” She looked ahead again, walking briskly along the sidewalk to the parking lot. “I barely have any students these days, anyways. Hasetsu is losing more and more people…” Yuuri felt his heart sink. Mari had been protecting him. Whenever he asked how the town was doing she said everything was fine. Maybe a little slow… but fine. This was not fine. And he was off chasing a stupid childish dream when he should have been here helping…

“There are hardly any kids skating these days…” Why would there be when the only figure skater to come from here was the country’s biggest embarrassment.

“But you should liven things up!” Yuuri froze in his tracks. No. He couldn’t. They wouldn’t want him. He was just a good for nothing failure.

“I-I’m Sorry. I’m tired right now…”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I’m back.” 

“Hiroko! I brought Yuuri home!” Minako smiled as Yuuri’s mother rushed into the entry way.

“Minako-senpai! Thank you for going to get him!” His mother came to a halt in front of Yuuri. She looked her son up and down a fond loving look in her eyes.

“Yuuri, welcome home.”

Yuuri felt a warmth and bitter sweet sadness spread through him. “Thanks…” He looked down. “I am sorry it’s been five years…”

“It’s no problem!” She gave him a warm smile and a look of apology crossed her face. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it out to your graduation. Want Pork cutlet?”

Minako and Yuuri’s mother got into a brief discussion, allowing Yuuri’s mind to wander. The Inn looked the same. The decorations were colorful and tasteful with a traditional flare. 

Yuuri snapped back to attention when he heard his instructor call his name suspiciously. “I have been wondering since I picked you up at the station… What’s with that gut?”

Uh oh. This was his cue to leave. He turned to walk back out the door, but was stopped by a hand on the scruff of his neck. “Take your clothes off.”

Next thing he knew he was down to his sweats. He fidgeted uncomfortably. He was extremely out of shape. His face was rounder, his thighs rounder, and a good layer of pudge peaked out from his shirt. His father appeared and commented on how much he looked like his mother. He knew he was out of shape, there was no need for Minako-sensei to berate him about it. God this was so embarrassing. He just wanted to be alone… maybe with a pork cutlet bowl…

Oh but first…

He looked towards his mother, a hope in his eyes.

She smiled back knowingly. “Go say hi to Vicchan.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The alter was simple and beautiful. Its center piece was a photo of him when he had first gotten the tiny toy poodle. He looked so young. Vicchan looked so young. It was a wonderful picture. He could feel tears threatening.

Where had he been for the last four years of his precious dogs life? Wasting time in a foreign country. Chasing a dream and a man that he didn’t deserve. He hadn’t even visited before Sochi thinking it would only take away time from his precious skating.

What a waste.

He knelt in front of the alter.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t see you one last time, Vicchan.”

He heard the door slide open behind him. He turned to see his sister leaning against the doorframe. “Yuuri, welcome home.”

“Mari-nee!” She gave him the small fond smile that was always reserved for her beloved little brother. “It’s been a while.” Her hair was a little shorter and the ends were dyed blonde. But she looked tired. It was a painful reminder that this he hadn’t been there to help. “I’m sorry I visited when it’s so busy.”

Mari looked away and pulled a pack of cigarettes from her pocket. “How long are you staying in Hasetsu?”

“Eh?” He hadn’t been expecting that question so soon after arriving. 

“Will you be helping out with the Hot Spring?”

He felt his heart sink. It really was that bad wasn’t it? “Why are you asking this now…?”

“You went to college, even though it took you an extra semester.” She stared pointedly at him. “What do _you_ want to do?” That took Yuuri aback. She wasn’t demanding that he come help with the onsen. She wanted to know what path he wanted to take. He did have a degree that gave him a perfectly viable career option outside of the hot spring.

What did he want? Yuuri wasn’t sure if he really knew the answer to that question. He wanted to stop being a failure. That much was for sure.

“If you want to continue skating, I’ll support you.” He felt a pang of guilt run through him. He hadn’t told his family that he intended on permanently retiring.

“I-I think I need some more time to think about it.”

His sister sighed. He could tell she could see through his lie. “Okay.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He had spent some time in the Onsen. It was more relaxing than he remembered. The tension and fatigue from the travel melted away in the hot water. It was the relaxation and comfort he associated with home. For the first time in months he allowed his mind to go completely blank.

When he finished, he came into the common room to find Minako watching the Worlds. Viktor was there on screen dancing trough his warm up routine. His eyes locked on the camera. An odd jolt went through Yuuri. His feet started to itch and he felt restless. He needed to move. It was like those eyes were a direct challenge to him. Stupid as it was. It made him actually want to feel the ice beneath his feet for the first time in months. 

He left the in heading for the one place that he know he would give him relief. The jog wasn’t terribly long, but the cold air burned his lungs. It tasted like home. Like the effort and sweat he had put into training when he was young.

His feet came to a halt in front of a part of automatic glass doors. Tentatively, he walked through them. “Excuse me.”

A familiar voice from behind the counter floated to him. “I’m sorry, but our regular hours are over.” A head popped out from around a rack of skates. His heart lifted at the sight of his friend staring back at him in mild disbelief. 

“It’s been a while, Yuuko-san.”

“Yuuri-kun?” Yuuri nodded.

“Oh come on!” She excitedly ran to the front of the desk. “Call me Yu-chan! We have known each other forever!” She gave him a playfully stern look.

“S-sorry.”

Her expression melted into fondness. “You came to skate right? Go ahead.”

“Huh? Can I?”

She smiled at him knowingly. “You want to skate alone right? You have that look about you.” She gave him a wink. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”

He felt his heart warm a little. He really had the best friends a guy could ask for. “Thanks.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yuuri skated lazy circles around the rink. He cut a few figures in the rink. It was just like his other classes. Just as aimless. Just as meaningless. He launched into a few jumps. His triple axel was still flawless. But even his triple toe loop was shaky. 

He knew it wasn’t advisable to try it on his own, but he needed to know. He picked up speed, alternating directions till he thought his had enough spin and lift. He felt his skates leave the ice and hoped.

For a moment the felt like it would work.

But he soon lost momentum and it was under rotated. His foot came down unsteadily causing him to slip and tumble to the ice. 

He still couldn’t land the quad salchow. He sat on the ice for a moment. Maybe this was why he could measure up against the competition. Why he couldn’t measure up to Viktor. He had hit a wall and couldn’t get past it.

That and his anxiety destroyed his ability to do the things he was good at anyway…

He looked up and saw Yuuko looking at him with a worried expression. She sighed and got up. He skated over to her.  
He pulled off his glasses and folded them. After a small moment of silence, he handed his glasses over to her. A heavy sigh escaped his lips. He knew where this practice was leading. It always led back to this program.

“This is what I have been practicing since the last competitions… Please watch.”

He skated to the center of the ice and took up the familiar position. He heard a small gasp from across the rink as she recognized the starting position.

Then he let his body launch into motion. He felt his muscles tense and relax to the beat of imaginary music. He transitioned from an brief opening spin to the kneeling position. He lifted up and skated into a triple lutz. A downgrade. But that wasn’t the point. He stepped his way into a triple flip and into a triple toe loop. 

His mind wandered to as he went into a spin.

This was Viktors routine. It was his. The routine of the man he so despritely wanted to have by his side. To prove he was good enough to learn from, grow with and to love. The longing seeped into his performance.

He wanted Viktor. He wanted him to be here with him. To see what he meant to him. 

Jump into a flying sit spin.

Vaguely he registered that Viktor was probably performing this same routine right now. On the soil of Yuuri’s homeland.

So close and yet so far. 

He felt the distance more than ever as he skated.

Viktor. A hand reached above his head. Reaching out in longing.

Viktor was the beautiful light that had kept him tied to skating for so long. Viktor was the man who had pushed Yuuri to do his best. Viktor was that unattainable pedestal of success that he had yet to taste. 

Viktor was his soulmate. The person who was meant to complete him.

And yet here he was… and there Viktor was. The gap was too huge for Yuuri to cross. He launched into a combination jump.

He launched into a step sequence. He let his mind imagine what it would be like. To be with Viktor. To have him a part of his life.  
He wanted that.

His movements became more desperate, almost pleading. He wanted to be good enough. He wanted to prove himself. He wanted Viktor.

He reached out towards Yuuko, not really seeing her.

He wanted to skate. He launched into another jump combination

He _wanted_ to skate. He fell into the combination spin. 

_Viktor… Come to me_ He reached forward, grasping for the man who wasn’t there. He brought them to himself as if in an embrace. Then his motions halted as he came to rest in the final pose.

It was silent for a moment. The only sound was of his heavy breathing.

A sob came across the ice. He turned surprised to see Yuuko with her face covered. Suddenly she dropped her hands.

“That was super cool! Just like Viktor! Awesome!” She shouted. He excitement subdued a little. Her voice dropped as he skated to her. “He’s your soulmate isn’t he.” The smile on her face was melancholic.

He was surprised at first, but then allowed himself to melt into his own sad smile. He was tired of keeping it a secret from everyone but Phitchit. He could at least tell his childhood friend. “Yeah.”

There was a moment of calm silence between the two of them. Then three heads popped up above the barrier.

“Axel, Lutz, Loop!” Yuuko laughed as her children stared at Yuuri intently.

He smiled back. “They’ve grown a lot since you’ve been gone.” Indeed, they had grown so much since he had left. They had been tiny little ones who had just started out on the ice when he had left. 

The middle one pipped up. “Yuuri you really have gotten fat!”

He felt the blow of childish honestly hit him like a punch to the gut. The others launched into a series of equally pointed questions.

“HEY!” Yuuko looked embarrassed. “I’m so sorry Yuuri, My girls are such groupies!” 

“We’re all fans, Yuuri.” He heard another pair of skates behind him and turned in time to get and arm thrown around him for a rough but affectionate embrace from Takashi. “Welcome home!”

It was good to be home. 

They spent some time catching up. The couple reassured that him that he could come and use the rink anytime he wished. They even went as far as giving him a spare key to the place. It was a warm reminder that his friends were still the wonderful people he had grown up with. He felt more content in that moment than he had since he left Hasetsu.

He didn’t notice the camcorder that one of the triplets tucked away.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Yuuri Katsuki Tries to Skate Viktor Nikiforov’s Free Skate_

Source: Youtube

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. The continuity errors in the series are bothering me. We are going to ignore the fact that Viktor is doing the same free skate from the Grand Prix Final a year ago. Okay? Everyone can agree on that? Great. *edit* Apparently my research on the timeline was a little wonky... There apparently was not full year in between... whatever. We're gonna ROLL WITH IT *End edit*
> 
> *Edit #2* I retro actively changed my timeline to reflect the story's timeline. It has now only been a few months since the Grand Prix disaster. *End Edit #2*
> 
> Anyways. THANK YOU! I am always appreciative of your guys' amazing support in the comment section. I am sorry that this took so long, but finals and computer disaster struck. That's life for you!
> 
> We are kissing the 500 kudos and I could not be more grateful. Ya'll are amazing. 
> 
> If you want to message me personally or send me something please holler at me on my [tumblr](http://drfanfare.tumblr.com/)


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